Prince of Ravenscar (Sherbrooke Brides 11)

He said in an expressionless voice, “This was Lily’s favorite place when she was a child. She created this garden herself when she was eight years old, she tended it, no one else was allowed to—even after we were married she still spent most of her time here. I see her father has maintained it well in the three years she’s been dead.”

Sophie slowly turned to face him. “Why did she not build a garden like this at Ravenscar?”

“She said this small garden was part of her, that she never wanted to duplicate it, even at Ravenscar.”

“But she was your wife. When she married you, Ravenscar became her home.”

“Yes.”

“Vicky told me when Lily was in her traveling gown, ready for your wedding trip, she whirled around and around and whispered ‘I’m free, I’m free.’ Can you tell me from what she was now free? From whom?”

“Vicky never told me that. I wonder if she’s told anyone but you. I wonder if it is even the truth, or something she merely imagined or something she made up. One must always consider all possibilities when Vicky says something provocative. Do I know why Lily whispered that, if indeed she did? No, I do not. Let’s assume Lily did say that. Then that would mean Vicky picked you to tell because she had a reason to. What the reason could be, I have no idea.”

“But those simple words of Lily’s raise frightening questions, Julian.”

He shrugged. “I have never been able to tell what Vicky is thinking, and I have known her all her life. She lurks about, always watching and listening. I imagine she knows every secret in Hardcross Manor. She has never said anything to me for or against my marrying again. She doesn’t spend much time with anyone; she doesn’t converse like regular people do.” He wondered if she’d been hiding in her father’s library when he’d arrived yesterday, hiding, listening, watching. He wouldn’t be at all surprised.

“She intimated Lily had a lover, but she said she never saw him. Did the servants, she wondered. She also told me she didn’t think you shot Lily in the heart, because you were too shocked when you found her. Was there a lover, Julian?” Sophie whirled about, horror in her eyes at what she’d said. The words tasted rancid. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, that is none of my business. It’s just that I want you to resolve this mess, and—”

Julian ran his fingers through his dark hair, making it stand on end. “No, I’m quite sure there was no lover. I’ve had to face it, Sophie, for there is no other conclusion—she shot herself through the heart. Why? I have no idea.” He hit one fist against the other, then gave a brutal smile. “Or I killed her, one or the other. Both Richard and his father believe I did. I don’t know about you.”

She grabbed his jacket and shook him. “I have already told you I didn’t for an instant believe you guilty of murder. And of murdering your own wife?” She shook him again. “What is wrong with you? Do you think I have rocks for brains? Stop that nonsense. Are you certain there is no one else who could have killed her?”

He smiled down at her. “I haven’t known you very long, Sophie, yet you believe me innocent without knowing all the facts?”

“Of course, you moron.”

“Thank you.” He studied her face. “I wonder, would you defend me to the death, Sophie?”

“Probably. Listen to me, I happen to care about you. I don’t want to see you hurt any more than you have already been. I drives me quite mad to think of Richard Langworth threatening you. And he honestly believes you killed your own wife, and he’s known you all your life.”

She looked at him, straight on. “It’s time you told me exactly what happened. Can you do that, Julian? Can you confide in me?”

He said nothing for several moments, then, in an emotionless voice, “I have never told anyone exactly what I saw, what I did, but yes, I will tell you.” He drew a deep breath. “I came here to Hardcross Manor that day to tell Lily I had to go to London on business, because I didn’t wish to write her a letter. I heard a gunshot. She was lying over there, her skirts fanned out around her, and there was a large bloodstain covering her chest. So much blood. I remember I couldn’t accept it, simply couldn’t. She still held a pistol in her outstretched hand. Her beautiful hair was loose around her head, black as night her hair, and I wondered why it was down. She never wore her hair loose during the day.” He paused for a moment. “I felt as though I’d walked into a nightmare. Nothing made any sense, yet I knew it didn’t matter what I thought or what I did, because everything was over.”

“Did you see anyone? This so-called lover?”

“No, no one was here, but Richard came a few moments later. He’d heard the shot and saw me on my knees beside her. He believed I’d shot her. Actually, I was trying to make her breathe, make her open her eyes, but she didn’t.”

“You said the gun was in her hand.”

“Yes. Richard believed I’d placed it there. He believed she wanted to leave me, perhaps with a lover, and so I shot her.” He touched his fingertips to her mouth. “Yes, you want to say Richard is quite mad to believe me guilty, but you see, there had to be a reason he could grasp. It had to be something shattering, and a lover was the only reason he could latch on to. He was wild with grief, whereas I was cold and stiff, my brain and my body frozen. Richard threw himself on her, tried to get her to breathe, just as I had, but she didn’t. He was sobbing and cursing, beside himself, yet I—I rose and stood over both of them, apart from all of it, and I felt the wet of her blood soaked through my shirt. I remember I looked at my hands. They were covered with her blood from when I’d pounded on her chest, trying to make her breathe.”

“Don’t try to make it some sort of condemnation of yourself. You were shocked insensible. Surely when Richard recovered a bit, he knew you could never harm a woman, even one he believed had betrayed you. And Lily was his sister—how could he have thought so little of her he’d believe she’d take a lover after being married to you for six months?”

“I don’t believe he really thought there was a lover, he simply had to have a reason he could understand. I was the only one here when he burst into the garden. I hadn’t seen either Richard or Lily when I arrived. I simply came to where I knew Lily was likely to be.”

Sophie said, “All right, if she didn’t kill herself, if someone did kill her, then this person could have easily escaped, could he not? I mean, you didn’t immediately go searching, and neither did Richard.”

“No, not immediately.”

“Let’s consider this lover possibility for a moment. Can you think of any man who perhaps admired her overmuch?”

“Believe me, I’ve thought a great deal about that. I don’t want to believe she killed herself—wouldn’t that mean that I’d driven her to it?” He slashed his hand through the air. “But is the other preferable? God only knows. There was no other man. Perhaps Richard and the baron tried to believe it, but I know they couldn’t. Lily wasn’t that kind of woman.”

“So if both the baron and Richard believed there was no lover, and they couldn’t consider that she shot herself, then it makes sense they would think you killed her, is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes. I couldn’t bear to tell them it had to be suicide, I simply couldn’t. In fact, I only told my mother that Lily had killed herself, that nothing else made any sense. I remember she said only, ‘I don’t know why she killed herself, Julian, but I do know something was different about her. I suspect you knew it, too.’”